Who knew that some forty-five years ago in a high school English class, I’d pull out a spiral notebook and poise my Bic ballpoint over the even blue lines to catalogue various ponderings on paper?
Who knew I’d raise my hand as a sixteen-year-old to my church’s invitation to join their youth leadership, ordaining me as an elder at that tender age?
Who knew I’d turn the direction of my life toward full-time ministry when as a green graduate from the University of Texas, I searched the horizons for a place to grow my “next” and settled on Denver Seminary?
Who knew I’d meet the man I’d marry on a fall morning in Old Testament class?
Who knew that we’d be unable to have children biologically?
Who knew I’d sit in the foothills office of a local college president and agree to serve as that school’s dean of women?
Who knew I’d receive first one tiny baby girl and then her baby-brother-to-be through adoption?
Who knew I’d dare to write a book about the challenges of waiting for everything to come to be?
Who knew I’d answer the phone one spring day to hear an invitation to apply to become the first president of MOPS International? Me, the most unlikely candidate, coming from a broken family myself and never having actually been pregnant.
Who knew I’d yield my timing to God’s and become a grandmother while still mothering my own children?
Who knew I’d be invited to co-host a national radio program with a team of super-smart Bible teachers? Me?
Who knew that I’d be tapped to share thoughts and scripture in a pint-size pamphlet of power called Our Daily Bread — 60 million resources distributed in 150 countries around the globe each year?
Who knew I’d suffer through oh-so-many broken moments in which God would eventually reveal his beauty?
God knew. “I know the plans I have for you” he said to the Israelites in Babylon as they endured a forced separation from their land and their way of life. “Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you a future and a hope.” (Jeremiah 29:11)
In my life, there have been many detours along the way toward a “future and a hope.” Disappointments. Let downs. Giant potholes of trials. Surprising turns. And delightful unveilings of what I’d never expected.
Who knew? God always knew.
When I lose my way …
when I worry about my world …
when I question my offering …
when I fret about the future …
when I struggle to continue …
when I suffer in loneliness …
when I wrestle with doubts …
when I decide I’m done …
may I remember that God knew, and may I trust that he still knows.
May we number our days and so gain a heart of wisdom that comes from knowing just Who it is that, indeed, knew — as well as Who it is that knows each next step we’ll take.